


to be a king beside you, somehow

by thepriestthinksitsthedevil (stubliminalmessaging)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boats and Ships, Light Angst, M/M, Prince Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 05:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12881049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubliminalmessaging/pseuds/thepriestthinksitsthedevil
Summary: Zayn supposed that he was a fairly typical nineteen year old. Hated work, hated school, tired of his parents trying to control and pressure him. Zayn did not know very many nineteen year olds but all of them had similar concerns in their lives. Zayn was exactly like them in every way.Except for the fact that Zayn was the prince of his parents’ kingdom and that the only nineteen year olds he knew were his father’s squire and the farmer’s son who brought produce in for the kitchens in the castle. They probably did not like their lives much, either.





	to be a king beside you, somehow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [softzindagi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softzindagi/gifts).



> phew! this fic exhausted me, but it was a labour of love and i hope you enjoy it!!

Zayn Malik was nineteen years old and had troubles similar to most other nineteen year olds. He hated his job; found it mundane and boring and wished for a more exciting life as each second of his day ticked by. He had lessons which were also taxing on him. He learned about trade and economics and history and even subjects that he enjoyed like language and the arts were less enjoyable when he was being forced to analyze them. His parents put excessive stress on him, creating exhausting tasks for him to complete and having high expectations for his performance in every aspect of his life.

 

He supposed that he was a fairly typical nineteen year old in those respects. Hated work, hated school, tired of his parents trying to control and pressure him. Zayn did not know very many nineteen year olds but all of them had similar concerns in their lives. Zayn was exactly like them in every way.

 

Except for the fact that Zayn was the prince of his parents’ kingdom and that the only nineteen year olds he knew were his father’s squire and the farmer’s son who brought produce in for the kitchens in the castle. They probably did not like their lives much, either.

 

Where their days were at least full of sunlight and fresh air, Zayn spent his learning about all the things he needed to know for when he would be king someday. His parents did not seem to consider that he did not particularly  _ want _ to be king, and that he privately thought he would do a terrible job of running their kingdom. It all seemed like so much work and so many rules, and Zayn would much rather spend his time reading and painting and napping instead of spending hours upon hours with dusty old textbooks and even dustier older instructors. What good was learning all of these things, learning to write and to ride, when Zayn would always have people to do those things for him? 

 

His parents wanted too much of him, and it was all pointless anyway. Why could they not just leave him be, to do as he pleases? They should train an advisor to help him run the kingdom and make all the hard decisions for him. Then at least someone who actually  _ wanted _ to do the job would get to do it. Zayn would still look like he was being a good leader and that he made good decisions for his people, and his parents could act like they had raised a smart and capable heir. Everyone would be content, and Zayn could be left to live his life the way he wanted to.

 

One evening, after a particularly exhausting day during which he slept in too late and his father berated him for drawing while he was supposed to be learning about trade routes, he decided that he was finished. He was finished with his parents and their rules and how he was being groomed to rule a kingdom that he did not want. So that night, he begged off of supper, claiming to be feeling poorly, and said that he would take his evening meal in his chambers. Once his food had been brought to his room, he ate what he could not pack, and shoved the rest of it into a sack with some spare clothes he had nicked from servant’s quarters and a bag of gold heavy enough to take him anywhere that he might want to go. He changed out of his rich silk tunic, savouring the lush feeling of the fine fabric, and replaced it with a roughspun brown shirt that fit him poorly and made his skin feel itchy. He immediately disliked the feel of the garment, but he banished the thought from his mind. If he was going to be living independently, there would be no need for him to lounge about in rich expensive fabrics. He would find a job as a farmer or a tanner or a butcher or, quite honestly,  _ anything _ other than a damn prince.

 

Zayn crept quietly through the halls of the castle, listening carefully to the footsteps and quiet voices he could hear around each corner. He ducked behind a statue to avoid being seen by a group of chatty maids on their way to the cellar to collect vegetables to prepare for the next meal. They passed his hiding spot and carried on down the hall and after they had turned the corner and their voices had faded, Zayn came out from behind the statue and continued his journey.

 

He did not encounter anyone else on the way out of the castle and when he slipped out the door to the stable yard he did so undetected. He briefly contemplated taking a horse but decided against it when he thought about how the stable hands checked on the horses frequently and would notice one missing. He also did not know how to feed and take care of a horse and to be honest, horses intimidated him. They were big and smelly and so he would just avoid them entirely and make his escape on foot. He could be stealthier that way.

 

Sneaking through the castle town was easier than Zayn had expected it to be. All the townspeople were busy with their lives and did not notice him when he was not being escorted around by a guard detail. He was slightly surprised (and a little offended) that he could walk past people without being recognized, but anonymity would serve him well in his new life as a runaway.

 

There were castle guards stations by the gates of the castle town so he could not just stroll out the gate. Instead he searched for a section of wall that had handholds for him to use to climb over it. He did not find a wall like that, but he did find a stable with scaffolding that allowed him to climb onto its roof, and then from there he was able to reach the top of the wall and haul himself up.

 

Looking down over the other side of the wall made a lump form in his throat. It was a higher wall than it looked and he did not see a way to climb down on ease his descent. As far as he could see the wall was mostly flat, but he thought he could see a section that was pocked and dented enough that he could wedge his feet and fingers into them and hopefully climb down.

 

He flipped his body to lie flat on the wall and shimmied himself over to the section of wall with the dents. Then he carefully swung one of his legs over the side and felt around until his foot found one of the pocks. He pushed his foot against the wall until it seemed to be steadily hooked in the hole, and then gingerly slid his body down the side of the wall until he could comfortably settle his weight on it.

 

His progress was slow but steady and he was about halfway down the wall and feeling proud of himself when a piece of stone in the wall came loose under his foot and he fell to the ground with a thump. He landed on his rear and laid there groaning for a moment, before he realized that no one was going to come running to his rescue. If he was going to be an anonymous traveler, he was not going to be the prince anymore. He laid there in the dark feeling sorry for himself and thought about walking back to the gate and going back to the castle. Then he remembered his excruciating lessons that he would have to endure the next morning and it pushed him to get to his feet and brush himself off and carry on.

 

It was dark by this point and somewhere in the back of his mind, Zayn was worried. This was the furthest he’d ever been from the castle, and he had no idea where he was going. Once he got out of sight of the castle wall, all the trees and the paths looked the same, and there was a good chance that he might have been going in circles, but he did not want to retreat back to the castle to lick his wounds. He did not want his life as a prince and he would  _ not _ go running back with his tail between his legs like some child.

 

Zayn only walked for another moment before he saw lights and heard voices. He walked towards them and peeked from behind some bushes into the clearing where a group of men was stopped. They were laden with a cart piled high with boxes and parcels. He shifted his feet when he leaned to get a better look and the leaves under him crackled and rustled. The thought that not everyone who traveled through the woods outside the castle were  _ good _ people occurred to him at the same time as all four of the men glanced up towards the sound and their eyes settled on him where he hid in the bushes and dread settled heavy in his guts.

 

“You there!” one of them called and Zayn ducked down behind the bush so they could not see him and definitely did not squeak in terror. He landed on his sore bum and gritted his teeth. “We know you’re there, so you might as well come on out.”

 

“We just want to talk to you,” another one of them piped in. “Just want to know who you are and what you’re doing.”

 

It took a little more coaxing before Zayn finally got to his feet and joined them in the clearing. Halfway through timidly creeping out from behind the bush, Zayn realized that he could project an air of confidence and toughness that would maybe dissuade the strangers from hurting him. He approached them as confidently as he could, but balked when one of the men, the shortest one of them but with features sharp as a blade and a cunning, dangerous look about him, turned his critical gaze on Zayn.

 

“I-I’m just passing through,” Zayn finally said, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Moving on to someplace else.”

 

“You’re from here?” one of them asked. He was a tall boy with kind brown eyes and stubble along his jaw. Zayn nodded and he went on. “What do you do here?”

 

Zayn shrugged, keeping his eyes glued to the dirt under them. If they were foreigners they probably did not know who he was. This might be a way out for him, depending on how this conversation went. “I used to be a stable boy, but I have grown tired of the work and how my masters treat me. I am running away to try and start a new life somewhere else.” It was partly truthful, he supposed, somewhat amused.

 

The little one with the sharp cheekbones looked him over, scrutinizing eyes making Zayn neary shiver. They narrowed further when they came to settle on his face. “You were a stableboy,” he said, voice flat.

 

Zayn nodded. “I just want to keep walking. I will not bother you further; I just need you to point me in any direction other than the castle and I will be on my way.” He paused, then made an appeal to the brown-eyed boy who had a gentle air about him even though Zayn did not know anything about him that would make him think that. “And, if you feel inclined to tell me, what is your business in these woods? Are you coming from the castle? Where are you going?”

 

“We’re merchants off a ship that’s docked in the harbour,” one of the men began explaining. He had bright, lively blue eyes that shimmered in the light of their flickering lanterns. His accent was different than that of his companions, though Zayn could not decide where it was from.

 

“We had dealings with the king which we just finished,” explained the last man who had not yet spoken, distinguishable by the meandering quality of his deep voice and the long curls that brushed his shoulders even as they were held back by a gauzy headscarf. “We’re just heading back to our ship now.” That explained the items on their cart. They must have been showing Zayn’s father their wares in the hopes that he might do business with them.

 

“A ship?” Zayn asked. “Do you need any help on board your ship?”

 

The men hesitated. The one with the indeterminable accent turned to the others. “We did just lose Gerry when he ran off with that bird at our last dock.”

 

“We’re not replacing Gerry with some kid from the woods,” the little one with the cheekbones scoffed. “Gerry had twenty years sailing experience. How many bloody  _ horses _ do we keep on board for him to look after?”

 

Zayn flushed in embarrassment and annoyance. A stable hand had been the first thing he had thought of. “I have been told that I am a quick study.”

 

“What, by the horses?” Accent Boy laughed, and the rest of the group snickered.

 

“I have not got anything keeping me here,” Zayn said, determined to try a different route. “I will put my whole life into whatever you need me to do, because I do not have anything else.”

 

“Who says your whole life is even worth anything?” Cheekbones said, and Zayn nearly snapped at him. If he only knew just how valuable Zayn’s life really was.

 

“That’s harsh,” Curls said softly, frowning down at Cheekbones. “If you’ll recall, the captain took you in and let you work on the ship after you stole from him.” Cheekbones’ finely sculpted face flushed, and Curls went on, looking to his other mates. “All of us were hired on the ship as a second chance, so I don’t think we should leave him behind just because he wants one too.”

 

“The captain isn’t here to decide,” the tall, nice boy with the brown eyes said. He looked over at Zayn properly for the first time, and their eyes met. “Can you give us a moment to talk privately?”

 

Zayn nodded, turned away, and wandered to the other end of the clearing. The men formed a closed circle and began speaking to each other in low voices. It was hard not to listen in to what they were saying since it would decide his fate, but he supposed that if they declined his offer to come work for them, he would just have to carry on and find something or someone else.

 

Their discussion escalated and then slowed and then stopped and then then the kind boy was striding over to him. He placed a large hand on Zayn’s shoulder, and in the light Zayn could see the intricate black and gray ink that bloomed on the pale skin on the back of his hand and disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt. Zayn’s eyes flicked up from his hand to his face, and the hand squeezed his shoulder while the man smiled at him.

 

“We’re going to take you back to our ship and then we’re going to speak to the captain, and he’s going to decide whether he’ll hire you or not,” he explained, sliding his hand off Zayn’s shoulder and instead offering it to him to shake. “I’m Liam.”

 

“Zayn,” Zayn said, and it struck him then that it had been years since he had had to properly introduce himself. It had been a struggle not to tack on his formal title before his name, but he did not want these men to know that he was the prince or they might want to take him back to the castle and return him to his parents.

 

“Isn’t that the name of the prince in this kingdom?” Cheekbones asked slowly, raising a very judgmental eyebrow, and Zayn’s guts turned to ice.

 

“M-my mother named me after the prince.” Zayn stammered. “I was born a month after him and she wanted to pay her respects to the royal family.” Zayn fidgeted with the strap of his sack and looked down at the ground. “Shall we go to your ship? I can help pull your cart, if you would like.”

 

Cheekbones looked at him haughtily for another moment before he turned away. He led the way out of the clearly, grabbing Curls by the wrist and pulling him along with him. Curls had one of their two lanterns, Zayn supposed, and he would need that to see the way.

 

Zayn did not end up having to pull the cart, which was probably to his benefit. His duties as a prince did not make him particularly strong, and once Zayn looked at the cart and saw the thick fabrics and large pieces of pottery that the men were selling, he knew that he would have only embarrassed himself by pulling the cart like he had offered.

 

Instead, Accent Boy hummed happily as he pulled the cart and Zayn fell into step at the back of the troop with Liam and his lantern. Liam turned out to be just as kind as he looked, and he started chatting with Zayn immediately when they began walking together. He told Zayn the names of the boys they were traveling with - Accent Boy was actually called Niall, Cheekbones was called Louis, and Curls was Harry.

 

“Is Louis always… like  _ that _ ?” Zayn asked, frowning at the back of Louis’ messy head of hair.

 

Liam chuckled. “No, he’s just being careful. He’s had a rough life and it takes him some time before he trusts anyone. He’s just trying to protect us and the rest of the crew.” He paused and looked at Zayn. “We don’t really know you.”

 

Zayn flushed and stared at the ground, nodding.

 

“I think you’ll like him, though. Once you get to know him. I didn’t like him at first either.”

 

Zayn frowned at Louis, but when he saw the first smile he had seen from the boy, a dazzling, sparkly-eyed one directed at Harry, he could see how Louis could maybe be a nice person. He would not believe it until Louis started being nice to him, though.

 

A couple of hours of walking later, Zayn and the rest of the boys reached the dock nearest the castle. Men climbed off their ship and began unloading the cart back onto it, while the boys led Zayn onto the boat and into its depths, presumably to wherever the captain was so he could decide Zayn’s fate.

 

They stopped in front of a large door that was located under the upper deck of the ship and waited once Niall knocked. The door was answered by a man who Zayn quickly learned was called Captain Cowell. Louis quickly took charge and told his captain who Zayn was and how they had met him, and Zayn was exasperated when Louis added that he needed to talk to Cowell in private about this before he made any decisions.

 

Cowell agreed and sent Liam outside with Zayn to supervise him while they discussed whatever it was that Louis thought they needed to discuss.

 

“Louis doesn’t hate you, he’s just making sure Cowell knows as much as possible before he makes a decision,” Liam assured him, even though Zayn had not said anything. He uncrossed his arms and tried to school his expression into something less like that of a petulant child.

 

“He is probably telling him that I am some kind of violent criminal who robs widows and kills kittens,” Zayn grumbled, and Liam snorted but did not offer any explanation as to why he found Zayn’s comment so amusing. Zayn thought they perhaps Liam just liked  _ him _ in general. He was less put off by that idea than he probably should have been.

 

A while later the door was finally opened and they were ushered back inside. Louis looked truly pleased for the first time since Zayn had met him, so Zayn was fully prepared to be denied a job on the boat and to be dumped back on the shore to watch his best prospect for freedom sail off into the horizon. What he did not expect was for Cowell to extend a meaty hand and welcome him on board the Georgia Rose. He was offered a conditional position as a deckhand provided he showed that he was a good worker.

 

Liam cheered and hugged Zayn in against his side after Cowell dismissed them, Harry and Niall smiled and welcomed him aboard, and Louis scowled when he saw Zayn looking at him. It was clear that he did not like the easy chemistry between Zayn and Liam, and maybe when Zayn caught on to that he smiled extra prettily at Liam and held his gaze for longer than strictly necessary. Zayn stuck with Liam (and thus with the rest of their group) during dinner and Louis huffed and rolled his eyes whenever he caught Zayn and Liam talking until Harry distracted him by talking about something else which usually ended in them kissing.

 

A few times, Zayn definitely engaged Liam in conversation and flirtation just to bother Louis, but after he had spent what felt like an hour listening to Liam talk about his childhood while he made up fake anecdotes about his own, he began to think that maybe he was doing it just because he  _ liked _ Liam and liked talking to him. He did not think too much about what that could mean, and instead focused on the way Liam’s eyes glowed when he talked about growing up with only sisters which Zayn could actually truthfully agree with.

 

-

 

It took about two months of living on the ship for Louis to finally come around and act like he did not hate Zayn, but it only took Zayn about three weeks to become hopelessly attached to Liam. He felt physically attracted to him from the first time he saw him in good lighting, eyes lingering on his scruffy jaw and plump lips. Despite that, he tried to keep his interactions with Liam appropriate, in case he did not reciprocate Zayn’s feelings. (Except around Louis. When Zayn could see Louis’ scowl deepening out of the corner of his eye, Zayn’s flirtations bordered on shameless.)

 

Zayn was conflicted by his feelings regarding Liam because it became obvious very early in their friendship that what he felt for Liam was not strictly physical. He could not help the stirring in his trousers when Liam finished his swim and hauled himself out of the water using the ladder one hot afternoon when he had finished most of the work he had to do on the boat. He could not make Liam’s biceps bulge any less enticingly or make his clothes cling to him any less obscenely. That was beyond Zayn’s control. That was also something he could suppress, like he had the handful of boys that he found himself attracted to in the castle. They had either been someone in his family’s employ or someone temporary in his life, so he had kept his dirty thoughts and eager hands to himself, choosing instead to let his imagination run wild when he was alone and desperate in his chambers at night.

 

The troubling thing about how he felt about Liam was everything else. He loved talking to Liam just as much as he enjoyed looking at him, and listening to Liam’s stories quickly became Zayn’s favourite past time on the ship. Back at the castle, Zayn enjoyed reading and drawing, and all of his hobbies were solitary ones. Since meeting Liam, Zayn felt starved for his attention and companionship all of a sudden. Even when Zayn was feeling burned out on social interaction, Liam’s presence felt unobtrusive and even soothed Zayn when he was feeling anxious. Zayn had never felt the sense of calm he felt around Liam ever before, and he wanted to spend every second of his time with Liam just to bask in it.

 

Halfway through Zayn’s second week living and working on the ship, his attraction was addressed during a game of dice he was playing with the boys. Once he had learned the rules of the game and picked up on the strategies commonly used by the rest of the group, Zayn became skilled at the game and ruthlessly committed to winning. Liam was never confident in his bets and always bet too low, Louis and Niall both placed bets on outrageously bad odds and seldom profited from them, and Harry was somewhere in the middle. Zayn supposed that he had the mathematics lessons that he once considered useless to thank for his aptitude for probability.

 

Zayn had just won another game and collected his winnings, which included a handful of coins, an apple, and a red handkerchief that had been bet by Liam. He had told Zayn a few days before how the item was special to him because his youngest sister wore one just like it in her hair, and so once the game was done and the other boys were mostly minding their own business, he gave it back to Liam.

 

“You won it,” Liam protested, though he smiled as he eyed the fabric that Zayn held out to him. “You should keep it. It’s yours, fair and square.”

 

“But I know it is important to you. Because of your sister,” Zayn said. They had common ground in the close relationships they both shared with their sisters. That had been one of the few shreds of truth mixed in amongst all of the lies that Zayn had been telling Liam. “I know that if I had some keepsake that reminded me of one of my sisters, I would not want to lose it. So it is yours; please take it back.”

 

“Are you sure?” Liam asked, and Zayn looked directly into his eyes as he nodded. Liam took the item carefully from Zayn, pulling the fabric taut between his hands before he folded it back into a small square, smoothing out the corners. “Thank you, Zayn. You know how much it means to me.”

 

Zayn just smiled back at Liam, and that was when Niall chose to make his opinion known. “Can you go somewhere else and shag each other senseless now?” he asked, tone bored but eyes twinkling with mischief.

 

“We don’t-”

 

“I,” Zayn stammered, brain going one hundred miles a minute but mouth incapable of producing any real words. He turned to Liam, eyes desperately wide, and then back to Niall. “We-”

 

“I’ll just leave you two to get this sorted,” Niall said, so cheerfully that Zayn wanted to throttle him. He turned and left, shoving Harry and Louis on his way past and removing them from the situation too.

 

Suddenly, alone with Liam, the bunk cabin in the underbelly of the ship which usually seemed quite large felt like a tiny wooden box. Zayn felt like he was breathing all of the air in the space, which normally made him feel anxious. Looking across the room and seeing Liam, just as flushed and scared as Zayn felt, made his blood settle and the anxiety crawling under his skin dissipate.

 

In the moments that followed, there probably should have been more in the way of talking and less in the way of kissing and touching. When they curled up together on Liam’s bunk afterwards, smelling of sweat and sex and desperation, they talked for what felt like hours. They talked about every little thing that crossed their minds, like they had ever since the very second they met. Liam told Zayn about the first time he slept with someone and Zayn told Liam his own story. He even told the truth, because it felt important and Zayn felt bare and vulnerable and he would want Liam to return his honesty if their roles were reversed.

 

Once they realized how long they had been absent and how they still had tasks to complete before the sun set, they pulled themselves together enough to return to the rest of the crew. Zayn was loathe to tear himself away from the comfort he felt with Liam’s strong arms around him or with his face buried in Liam’s warm, fuzzy chest, but he felt a sense of glee inside him when Liam smiled at him while fastening his trousers. It was like there was something fizzing in his tummy, but not in an uncomfortable sort of way. He felt… excited and nervous but ultimately like they had stumbled upon something amazing.

 

It was not until after they were cleaned up and dressed and heading up to rejoin their friends that Zayn realized that they had talked about everything except how things were going to be between them. A tiny seed of doubt lingered in the back of Zayn’s mind, but every time he looked at Liam and saw the gentleness of his eyes and his kind smile, the more he was sure that he was falling in love with the man.

 

-

 

Zayn was absolutely certain that he was in love with Liam, and that Liam loved him back. Zayn knew Liam loved him because Liam always chose him first and wanted to spend time with him. He traded Ed two bottles of rum to switch bunks with him so he could sleep in the one next to Zayn’s, though they ended up falling asleep together in the same one most nights. He was always doing things for Zayn, little gestures that spoke volumes in a place with few pleasures and luxuries as the merchant ship they lived and worked on.

 

He knew Liam loved him because he always brought him gifts back from his trips ashore. Zayn was not allowed to leave the ship, a general rule for new hires, but Liam brought him back books, sweets, art supplies, and anything else that he thought Zayn might like. He even brought Zayn garments of low quality silk and rough, worn leather, claiming that Zayn was a beauty deserving of the finest clothes. He had no idea that just a few weeks before, Zayn had been swathed in garments worth more than Liam's entire wardrobe combined, but the gesture was sweet nonetheless.

 

Zayn spent every second of his time with Liam. They often worked together and did the same chores. The only time that they were apart was when Liam had his mysterious meetings with the captain. Harry, Louis, and Niall attended the same meetings, so Zayn found himself with a lack of anything to do. Usually he found somewhere quiet to read, but it was still jarring to realize that he was so reliant on his little group of friends. He honestly did not know what to do when he was not with them.

 

Whenever Zayn was left on his own and too restless to sit down and read, he took to exploring the ship. There were always going to be sections of the boat that were off limits to him and doors that would be locked, but Zayn still liked to try.

 

He had explored the kitchen and the pantry and the large storage space below the deck. Storage was always packed full of different items that the crew sold to different communities. Things often just passed through the ship; one week there would be fifty rugs spun of fine silk and then the next time Zayn looked there would be crates of chickens or casks of wine.

 

It confused Zayn at first, because he thought that merchants generally tended to deal in the same wares all of the time. When he asked Niall and Liam about it, Niall froze, brows furrowed and clearly confused, and a moment later Liam picked it up and explained that they often bought and picked up loads of product from a supplier and circulated and sold the product to different communities. Zayn supposed that that explained it well enough, and Niall looked so relieved he might faint. Perhaps he was feeling ill.

 

Zayn woke up from an afternoon nap and was unable to find Liam or any of his other friends. A quick look around the ship had him suspecting that they might be in a meeting with the captain, and when Abel, one of Zayn’s other friends on the ship, saw Zayn looking like a lost puppy wandering around the deck, he confirmed those suspicions.

 

“They're in the mess hall with the captain,” Abel told him, and Zayn did not think too hard about how outsiders of their little group observed how Zayn spent all of his time with the boys. Abell seemed bored but as he spoke, he was gnawing his lip thoughtfully. “Wanna smoke?” he asked finally, eyeing Zayn with his dark dark eyes.

 

Zayn had only smoked with Louis before, which seemed to be the catalyst for them finally becoming friends, and he enjoyed it so much that he started trading things for tobacco with other workers on the ship. Louis was the only person he knew who ever had marijuana, but the devious look on Abel’s face had him intrigued.

 

While he did not think that any other members of the crew would disapprove of him for getting high with Abel, the morals that his parents instilled deep in him told him that good and hard working folk did not imbibe in substances such as this. That realization made him even more driven to get high, and when he and Abel finally crept out from the scaffolding under one of the staircases on deck, his head was swimming. They giggled as they shook out their shirts and let the wind blow the skunky smell off of them. They both shook their hair out, beaming, and Abel beckoned Zayn down below deck and through the narrow, dimly-lit corridors to the captain’s cabin. The sea was calm and the constant swaying that used to make Zayn sick was soothing to him then, the sensation aided by the smoke.

 

“It’s always locked,” Zayn protested. His voice sounded slow and thick in his own mouth, like his lips and tongue had to work harder to get the words out.

 

“Not right now,” Abel observed, reaching forward and giving the heavy iron handle a tug. It budged, and when Abel put his full weight behind pulling on it, it came free. He tripped backwards into Zayn and sent both of them tumbling to the floor. They laid there in a pile, laughing until their stomachs hurt until they finally got themselves together and got their feet. Even stoned, Zayn knew that the captain’s quarters were  _ never _ accessible to him and he wanted to look around while he got a chance.

 

The captain’s quarters were a lot like Zayn imagined they would be. A large bed sat against one wall, draped in moderately expensive coverings and bathed in sunlight that filtered in through the gauzy curtains. There were a few large wooden chests which were clasped shut which most likely contained maps and charts and inventory lists and other boring documents that merchant ships captains kept. One of the chests had heavy locks keeping them impenetrable, but Zayn just assumed that they held the money that the captain has amassed while conducting business for the ship.

 

The captain's wardrobe stood on a wall adjacent to the bed and on the opposite wall sat a large, heavy-looking wooden desk. It was laden with papers and quills and Abel was fumbling to light one of the candles he found on it. It was burned low and the holder was caked in wax but he managed to light it with one of the matches they had used to light their joint.

 

In the flickering light of the candle, words jumped off the pages and Zayn eagerly skimmed them. Based on his interactions with the other boys, he deduced that reading was not a skill that many of the crew had. This made him wary about how much he read and wrote around other people, since he did not want to give away how wealthy and educated he had been when he had been picked up. He loved living and working on the ship with the crew and Liam and his friends and he desperately needed to make sure that they never found out who he was - or… who he  _ had _ been, before.

 

After a quick look at the papers scattered before him, Zayn lost interest. They seemed to be letters between the captain and kings in different kingdoms arranging meetings to discuss future business. Zayn took a deep breath to blow out the candle and flee back out to the main deck before he and Abel got caught when he saw a familiar shape out of the corner of his eye.

 

Zayn set the candle down so hard he nearly knocked it over and slopped melted wax all over his hand. He grabbed the edge of a sheet of paper poking out from under another pile and yanked it free, guts freezing as he took in the wax seal pressed into the paper. It was the seal of his family’s kingdom, and upon further inspection, he knew that the writing was unmistakably his mother’s.

 

His mind was working a mile a minute, struggling through the haze created by the drugs, but when he finally put together the content of the letter, he thought his heart might have stopped. His name was mentioned several times along with ‘sum,’ ‘kidnap,’ ‘ransom,’ and, most disturbingly, ‘ _ pirate _ .’ Zayn  _ needed _ to get out of the room and on the deck to get fresh air.

 

Zayn nearly smashed into the door frame in his panic to get out the door, and he could hear Abel blow out the candle and slam the door before he stumbled down the hall after Zayn. The breath Zayn sucked in when he finally got above deck was like his first breath after nearly drowning, and Zayn made it to the railing on the deck and fell to his knees, panting.

 

“Zayn!” Abel called after him, and Zayn realized that he had probably been trying to get Zayn’s attention for some time now. The swaying of the ship and swaying of his stomach as it floated precariously in his belly had him throwing up over the railing of the ship. After a moment of retching into the churning ocean, Abel’s hand appeared and tentatively rubbed soothing circles between Zayn’s shoulder blades. He appreciated the effort, but it was of little use to him when his world had just been so thoroughly rocked.

 

Stomach thoroughly emptied, Zayn wiped his mouth with his sleeve and slid to his knees. He turned so his back was pressed against the railing, trying to catch his breath. Cool air brushed the backs of his ears and made him feel a little better, but when he looked up and saw the worried expression of Abel’s face, he felt like he maybe wanted to hurl himself off the side of the ship.

 

“Zayn,” Abel said softly, getting to his knees in front of Zayn and looking him in the eyes. Zayn took one look at his dark-skinned, lovely, caring face, and burst into tears.

 

-

 

Zayn was hiding in his bunk, pretending to be asleep when the boys got out of their meeting and Liam came looking for him. Abel had helped him to his bunk and tucked him in before leaving him alone, and Zayn was feeling so tender and vulnerable that he rolled over and grumbled when Liam stood beside his bed and said his name to try and get his attention. His voice was cheerful and Zayn supposed he did not blame him for sounding happy when he was not the one who had just been betrayed. 

 

“Zayn? Are you feeling alright?” Liam asked, placing a gentle hand on the dip of Zayn’s waist through the blanket. Zayn stiffened under Liam's touch and bit his lip. He felt like crying again but he did not want Liam to feel like he needed to pry.

 

“Just tired,” Zayn said, working to keep his voice even. Liam rubbed his hand up and down Zayn’s side and he tried to loosen up as if Liam's touched relaxed him. “How was your meeting?” Zayn asked.

 

“Boring,” Liam replied. “We just talked about some deals that the captain made with some kingdoms where we'll be traveling.”

 

“Anywhere interesting?” Zayn asked, sitting up to talk to Liam and better survey his face. The letter he had skimmed had contained his mother settling on a ransom amount and making plans for Cowell’s crew to bring him back to their kingdom. They would swap Zayn for the gold and then flee back to their ship. Every time Zayn looked at Liam, he felt a dense weight in his gut. It was hard for Zayn to stomach the thought that Liam, who told Zayn he loved him and kissed and touched him so tenderly, would be a pirate planning on ransoming him back to his parents for a pile of gold. The fact that he would take advantage off Zayn’s naivety for a price made Zayn feel physically ill.

 

“Not really,” Liam said with a shrug and not a hint of remorse on his face. “A lot of the same.”

 

“It’s good to have a consistent repeat client base,” Zayn said blandly, and Liam just chuckled like he had told a great joke.

 

-

 

Two days after Zayn had uncovered the truth about his friends and the ship, Liam cornered him in an empty hallway below deck and asked him what was wrong.

 

“Nothing,” Zayn insisted, trying to shoulder past Liam. He should have known it would not work; Liam was broad and muscular where Zayn had put on muscle since he started working on the ship, but he was still slender in comparison to Liam. He grunted, scowling at Liam who did not budge.

 

“You’ve been distant and quiet lately. Even quieter than usual,” he amended when he saw Zayn about to protest that he was  _ always _ quiet. “I just want you to be alright.”

 

“I am  _ fine _ ,” Zayn insisted, trying to push past Liam again. Liam let him go this time, but he caught Zayn by the wrist before he could get away and held both of his hands. He rubbed his thumbs over the back of Zayn’s hands.

 

“Talk to me,” Liam begged, kind brown eyes boring into Zayn’s soul. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can make it right.”

 

“ _ You _ are what is wrong,” Zayn finally snapped, ripping his hand away from Liam even though he squeezed it harder when Zayn raised his voice. Zayn rounded on him, torn between shouting and crying and landing somewhere in between. “The fact that I am only on this ship because your captain is planning on ransoming me back to my parents is what is  _ wrong _ !”

 

Liam’s face fell a second too late and Zayn  _ knew _ that he knew. “You  _ knew _ ,” he hissed. “This whole time? How soon did you know?”

 

Liam stammered out a few sounds but did not form words. Zayn had worked himself up into a rage and he had to keep going. He had to ride the momentum of his anger and let it all out. “ _ How soon did you know _ ?” he snarled and Liam finally got his thoughts together enough to answer.

 

“When we met you,” Liam replied. “When we ran into you outside your kingdom, Louis immediately recognized you.” Zayn remembered how Louis had not trusted him right from the beginning. He thought they had become close friends since Zayn had started working on the ship, but he supposed that was all just a means to an end for him since he had known all along. Which meant… “When we went off to talk together, he told us he was pretty sure who you were and that we should bring you back to the captain so he could decide if we would ransom you.”

 

“So from the beginning, have I just been a payoff for you?” Zayn asked, tears burning his eyes and starting to streak down his face. “Did you mean  _ anything _ you ever said to me?”

 

“I meant every word,” Liam insisted. “Once I got to know you, I spent every second dreading when we would have to bring you back and when you would find out about the captain’s plan.”

 

“You mean  _ your _ plan?” Zayn asked, shoving at Liam’s chest. He did not move and so Zayn pushed him again, letting out a frustrated growl. “The plan you and the rest of the people who I thought were my friends came up with to wring my parents dry of as much gold as possible?”

 

“I told you, it was only like that until I got to know you,” Liam argued. “I promise, me and the lads all changed our minds once we spent more time with you. You’re our friend now. I  _ love _ you now.”

 

Zayn scoffed. “So you would have ransomed me off without any guilt if you had not started fucking me? Wonderful.”

 

“Zayn,” Liam said, voice thick. “I just-"

 

Zayn had had enough. He tried to move away from Liam, but Liam darted around him, effectively cornering him again. Zayn lashed out, hitting Liam's shoulder with his fist but he did not seem to even feel it.

 

“Liam! Leave me alone!” Zayn snapped, striking out again. “I have nothing to say to you.”

 

“Then don't. Just listen,” Liam said, and Zayn tried to hit him again but Liam caught him by his wrists, holding them tight against his chest and incapacitating Zayn which just made him angrier. “I wanted to tell you the truth, but I didn't want to lose you. I love you so much; I was trying to think of a way to get you out of it. To keep you with me.”

 

Liam paused then, eyes big and imploring, like his speech was meant to change Zayn’s mind. Zayn stomped on Liam's foot sharply, making him recoil. He slipped past Liam to the end of the hall.

 

“Do not speak to me again, Liam,” Zayn said when he reached the foot of the stairs. He threw a scathing look over his shoulder, freezing Liam on his tracks where he had taken a few hasty steps to try and chase Zayn. “I am not a thing you can keep.”

 

Liam's face fell and he let his arms fall to his sides, watching Zayn go.

 

-

 

If Zayn was feeling upset about his friends lying to him, he was heartbroken when they made no attempt to try and talk to him about it. Harry and Niall looked guilty and avoided him, Louis straight up ignored him, and Liam looked like a licked puppy every time Zayn was within his view. Zayn knew he had told Liam not to talk to him, but it hurt a lot that Liam did not seem to even want to try to change his mind. 

 

The same day that Zayn confronted Liam about the ransom, he was escorted to the captain’s chamber a burly member of the crew whose name he did not know. They flanked him inside the doorway to the captain's cabin. The captain himself was sitting at his desk, candle lit and papers on his desk organized. Square in the middle of the desk sat a pile of sheets of fine parchment, the royal seal of his people just visible on the bottom of one of them.

 

“Zayn,” he started, ugly smirk twisting his face. “Or should I call you Your Highness?”

 

The guards on either side of Zayn snickered. Zayn did not so much as twitch, eyes glued to the letters on Cowell’s desk.

 

“You always were quiet, and you'll stay that way.” Cowell went on. “We'll be back to your kingdom within the next two weeks and you'll be well-behaved to the very second that we hand you back to your mum and dad.”

 

Zayn did not respond, and Cowell slammed his flat palm down on the surface of the desk, making Zayn jump. One of the guards grabbed Zayn hard by the arm when he moved and Zayn stood up straighter.

 

“You think that now that you know why we're keeping you, that you're going to keep having freedom and privileges on my ship? That's a no from me,” he scoffed. “You're going to keep to yourself and behave until we bring you back to your parents. No heroic escapes, no kicking and screaming, and no attempting to off yourself.” Cowell said, voice hard as steel. “Is that clear?”

 

Zayn nodded stiffly, joints wooden.

 

Cowell dismissed him, and he was escorted by the guards to a bunk which had been moved for him down to the storage space in the underbelly of the ship. There was no one stopping him from going upstairs and interacting with members of the crew, but he had no desire to so he did not.  The only time he saw a person was when a faceless crew member would bring food down to him twice a day and he did not interact with them. He just received his plate and was then left alone again.

 

The third time someone brought him a meal, it was Abel. Zayn heard footsteps and did not stir, laying on his side on the bed and staring at the wall. Usually the food was set down on the floor and left there until Zayn felt like eating.

 

This time the person carrying the food lingered near the head of the bed, which annoyed Zayn. He lifted his head to look over his shoulder, brows furrowed and ready to snap. He saw Abel and deflated immediately.

 

When Zayn sat up and scooted over to make space for Abel, the other man sat down. He looked down at the tray of food that he held in his lap for a moment, and when he finally meet Zayn’s gaze, his daze was close to crumpling with guilt.

 

“I'm so sorry,” Abel said, tapping his fingers on the edge of the tray. “I had no idea. The captain told us we're not supposed to talk to you but he didn't tell us why. I had to hang around your friends until I overheard them gossipping about you.”

 

They talked about him. “They're not my friends,” Zayn said bitterly.

 

“They're worried about you,” Abel told him. 

 

“Then why are you here and they're not?” Zayn spat. Abel cringed like he had been hit and Zayn knew he had a point but he felt bad for taking it out on Abel when the man had done nothing wrong. “I am glad you are here,” Zayn added, offering Abel the tiniest ghost of a smile which he returned.

 

-

 

Over the next few days, as they got closer and closer to Zayn’s family's kingdom, Abel served as Zayn’s only source of comfort. He was a friend to Zayn, bringing him food and news and generally being a companion to him. Abel told him about the weather and about places they had stopped. They sometimes exchanged stories of their families but they were in short supply since Abel was an only child and Zayn felt bad talking about his rich and privileged upbringing with Abel, whose family worked hard for very little.

 

“The captain says we're going to arrive at your kingdom today,” Abel told him one morning when he had brought Zayn his breakfast. “So I can't come back down here.” Zayn took a moment to put together what that meant. He had lost his friends and his lover and now he was going to lose the only person who had offered him kindness and friendship during his imprisonment.

 

They did not say much else before Abel said he had to go. Zayn pulled him in for a quick hug and Abel squeezed him tightly, then disappeared up the stairs. Zayn picked at the food Abel had brought him and he only had to wait a short while before someone came down to get him. They stomped down the stairs and emerged, the same two burly crew members that Cowell usually employed as his muscle.

 

Zayn did not have any possessions to gather up and pack away, so he got up of the bed and went up the stairs, Cowell’s thugs dragged their feet behind him.

 

The sun was blinding when they got above deck, and Zayn had to shield his eyes after so much time spent in the windowless underbelly of the ship. He stumbled because he could not see and one of the guards grabbed him hard by the arm and dragged him towards the gangplank that had haphazardly been set up between the deck and the shore. It wobbled precariously as the bulky men led him down it, and they did not see a single other person on deck while they walked. Zayn felt a fresh wave of hurt with the knowledge that Liam had not even come to see him off.

 

The walk to the castle took most of the morning. The sun was high in the sky and beating down on them by the time the castle town towers came into view. Zayn thought he would feel more emotional at the sight of his home, but he found himself feeling almost an absence of attachment. He felt like a different Zayn than him lived here and that he had no connection to this alternate Zayn living in this hauntingly familiar but foreign place.

 

Zayn was just thinking about how he was going to adjust back to the life of a prince after he had experienced the freedom and adventure of life on a merchant ship. A  _ pirate _ ship, actually, he thought bitterly. The longing he felt for his friends and for the ship dampered when he thought about how they had hurt him. He was more occupied by the chafing of the ropes holding his wrists firmly behind his back. He did not really need the guards to lead him or the ropes to restrain him. His friends on the ship had betrayed him and he had nowhere else to go, so of course he would return home with his tail between his legs, whether he was being led there or not. What else was he to do?

 

“Oi!” someone shouted, making all three of them turn their heads towards the sound. Niall came jogging into the clearing and Zayn was embarrassed by how his heart leapt into his throat at the sight of him. They had been such good friends.  _ Had _ being the key word. When Liam, Harry, and Louis came trotting along after him, Zayn had collected himself again and tempered his reaction to the appearance of the boys. Judging by the look on Liam’s face, Zayn looked cold and uncaring, exactly like he intended.

 

“What’re you lot doing here?” one of the guards sneered, grabbing Zayn’s shoulder and jostling him, almost hard enough to knock him over.

 

The other one smirked. “Here to say one last goodbye to your fairy girlfriend before she flies off back to her mummy and daddy?”

 

The boys did not respond to the tasteless joke, and when they reached the clearing they stopped. They were sweaty and panting and visibly in a rush, and Zayn was itching to know why they were there.

 

“Cowell needs you two back on the ship right away!” Liam exclaimed, expression wild. He had sweat stains under his arms and his hairline was damp. He had clearly been running.

 

“What? What for?” one of the guards asked.

 

“Yeah, and wot’ll be done with this one when we go back to the ship? Are we to bring him back with us?” the other grunted, eyeing the boys suspiciously.

 

“There’s been an attack,” Harry gasped, short of breath. Louis jumped in to finish his explanation.

 

“They ambushed the ship, and Cowell needs all the muscle he can get,” Louis explained. His voice was stern, and sharp. He was not to be questioned and there was not  _ time _ . “They’ve got more men than we do and more guns. They  _ need _ you two.”

 

Both of the guards looked panicked then, giving each other significant looks. One of them smacked the other with the back of his hand, pointing aggressively at Zayn who stood free of either of their grips. The one who had been hit snarled and grabbed Zayn hard by the shoulder again, squeezing hard enough that Zayn grimaced and whimpered unintentionally. When he turned his eyes back to the boys, he caught Liam’s head snapping up and could tell he had been looking at Zayn. His heart lurched slightly at the realization.

 

“And what about him?” the guard holding Zayn asked, giving him a shake for emphasis.

 

“We’re to finish the escort,” Louis said, eyes hard as he looked up at the two guards in turn. Louis commanded so much respect that the guards had at least a foot on him each, yet they visibly fidgeted under his stare. “We’ll deliver the captive, collect the ransom, and be back to the ship by nightfall. Now  _ go _ .”

 

The guard holding Zayn looked convinced, but the other one clearly did not like being intimidated so much by someone smaller than him. He flexed in a way that Zayn could see, one of his bulging biceps probably nearly the size of Louis’ head.

 

“Why would Cowell send you lot?” he asked. “If he needed men, why would he send men here?”

 

“Probably because you two are twice as big as any one of us,” Louis snapped. “You’re a lot more useful than we are to him right now.”

 

“Plus, we’ve been emissaries between Cowell and this king before,” Harry added. “We have a relationship.”

 

This silenced the guards and after another tense moment of each party staring the other down, the guard holding Zayn shoved him towards the other boys. He nearly tripped and fell but Niall caught him, righting him but staying stern and not saying a word to him. The guards threw one last dirty look at the boys.

 

“You’d better not be ‘aving us on,” one of them vowed, glaring at them one last time before they hurried off back toward the ship.

 

They all watched them go. Once they were out of sight, Louis turned to the other boys. “Right. Let’s get on, then.”

 

Not a word was spoken to Zayn and they kept walking. Less than an hour later, they were in the shadow of the castle gate, where guards waited for them. Zayn’s return had been scheduled, after all. Cowell had planned it all out perfectly. A band of soldiers attacking the ship was not enough to waylay his perfectly crafted scheme.

 

There was some shouting and then the gates were opened. The drawbridge was lowered and men came out to meet their little troupe. The men did not get close to Zayn, kept away by the knife held to Zayn’s throat by Liam, his fingers tight and palm sweaty on Zayn’s bound wrists.

 

They marched Zayn through the square of the castle town. He passed by shops he had loved as a child and saw the frightened faces of people he had known, but only in passing. A crowd followed them through the town, and guards appeared, shouting and pushing people back and away from their little procession. The people did the bare minimum that the guards asked, keeping back enough to let Zayn and his abductors pass but trailing along behind them all the way to the castle.

 

It seemed like the entire population of the castle town were gathered outside the doors to the castle when Zayn was brought through them. The people who lived in the castle were much less reserved; distant family and different workers employed by the crown peering curiously as Zayn passed but too afraid of the guards to do anything more.

 

Their destination was the throne room, where Zayn’s parents and high-ranking members of the court waited for them. Their parade ended on the far end of the throne room, before the dias where the thrones sat, Zayn’s mother and father seated at them. Despite the dire situation at hand, his parents looked ever the regal dignitaries. Even then, Zayn could see the strain in them. The hollowness of his father’s cheeks told Zayn that his father was not eating well, likely sick with worry, and the dark circles under his mother’s eyes told him that she was not sleeping much. They looked rich and powerful, but under the surface they were exhausted, and Zayn felt a crushing wave of guilt that he had run away in the first place and that this was all his fault.

 

He was stopped before his parents, and he kept his gaze glued to the floor. At a nod from Zayn’s mother, a pair of guards stepped forward carrying a massive chest between them. They placed it on the floor between Zayn’s escort and the door so that they could pick it up on the way out, and when they dropped it on the floor it sounded like it weighed more than Zayn did.

 

That side of the exchange done, all that was left was for Zayn to be let free and returned to his parents and his kingdom. Liam’s hands shifted on Zayn’s wrists, and the throne room was so silent that he could hear Liam sawing his way through the ropes binding him. The tattered scraps of rope fell to the floor and Zayn’s arms fell to his sides. His wrists stung where the roughspun binds had been holding them, but he paid it no mind, too nervous to do so much as stumble a step toward his parents.

 

Zayn could feel Liam lingering behind him for a moment before he stepped away. He could hear the boys’ footsteps as they walked away from him, and finally he lifted his head to look over his shoulder and watch them go. He watched in shock as they walked right past the chest that contained the ransom, nearly reaching the door before Zayn called out to them.

 

“You have forgotten your gold,” he bit out, making all four boys pause. “Or is someone else coming by to collect it after you report back to your precious captain?”

 

“We’re not taking the ransom,” Niall said. “You’re free.”

 

“...what?” Zayn asked, taking a few steps closer to them before he paused. “You are leaving it?”

 

“We’re leaving it and we’re leaving you,” Louis said. “After we got to know you, we started making a plan to return you here and free you. We would have told you, but once you found out that Cowell was trying to ransom you, we figured it was safer if you didn’t know.”

 

Zayn’s heart pounded as he looked into the face of each of his friends - true friends, as it turned out. He felt horrible for ignoring them and taking out his anger on them when they had just been trying to help. He stammered out half-words and sounds, but Harry held up his hand and smiled at him.

 

“Liam came to us after you he knew you found out about the ransom, and he said we had to pull this off perfectly. He said that we had to act like we weren’t friends with you so that people would believe that Cowell sent us to ransom you,” his eyes were huge and earnest and Zayn ached. He had missed his friends so much. Abel had been a crucial support for him in a stressful time, but his boys shared a bond with him that he just could not replicate.

 

And Liam. Liam allowed him to yell at him and hate him in an effort to keep him safe and get him home. Zayn could not have known - they made a point to keep him from knowing - but he still felt rotten for turning his disdain on someone who cared so deeply for him.

 

“Will your captain not be angry with you?” Zayn’s mother asked from her place on the throne, brows pinched in concern when he turned to look at her. “Where will you go if you cannot return to your ship?”

 

Liam shrugged. “We’ll figure something out,” he said, giving Zayn one last forlorn look before he and the rest of the boys continued to walk to the door.

 

Zayn knew that at this point the best course of action would be to let them go and continue his life like he had before. They were clearly prepared to strike out on their own and start new lives. Cowell would not be pleased when he found out that he was double-crossed. He was much more likely to have them executed than he was to welcome them back aboard the ship.

 

“You’ve got nowhere to go,” Zayn said quietly. They did not respond to his comment so he finally made up his mind and moved, running across the throne room to them. All of them except Liam turned when they heard his footsteps, but Liam was the one he was running to. He nearly collided with Liam, grabbing his by the arm.

 

“Wh-” Liam barely got out as he turned, meeting with Zayn mouth first. They crashed together awkwardly at first, bumping lips and clashing teeth. Within a moment they both caught up, Zayn’s arms wrapping around Liam’s neck and Liam’s hands spanning his ribs on either side. They kissed passionately for a few moments before the need to breathe became too urgent and finally parted. They stayed leaned in close, nosing at each other’s cheeks and sharing each other’s air.

 

“Zayn,” Liam mumbled suddenly. “Your mum and dad are  _ right there _ .”

 

“Does it seem like I care?” Zayn asked, drawing Liam in for another kiss. Liam got over his reservations very quickly, kissing Zayn back and lifting him into his arms a moment later.

 

Cheers and applause erupted between their friends who were still standing between them and the door. They rushed in to embrace Zayn, chattering excitedly and mussing up his hair even as he continued to snog Liam. Niall was hooting and yelling and Harry and Louis were kissing too, even as they clung to the rest of the boys in a boisterous group hug. Their raucous celebration reminded Zayn that they were, in fact, still standing in a cluster near the doors of the throne room, in front of Zayn’s parents and the rest of the royal court and guards.

 

Zayn squirmed until Liam put him down and then he marched them back across the throne room until they stood before his parents again. Both of them looked embarrassed but pleased, hopefully because Zayn had managed to find good friends and, maybe, a boy who he could properly court and marry one day. He wagered that they were so relieved that he was home and that no harm had come to him that they would excuse him for his brattish behaviour before he ran away and was captured. Seeing his parents and his sisters and his old home again made him realize just how privileged a life he had led. He would love to be able to share even a small piece of that with his friends.

 

“Mother, father, esteemed members of the royal court,” Zayn began, nodding towards each person or group as was customary. It may have been weeks since he had been here and acting like a member of the royal family, but it was so deeply ingrained in his memory that he would always remember his etiquette.

 

“This is Harry, Louis, and Niall,” he gestured with his hand to indicate which man he was referring to when he named them. Harry managed a clumsy bow during which Louis grabbing his arm and steadying him was the only thing that prevented him from falling over. Liam held the hand he was not gesturing with and Zayn squeezed it, smiling reassuringly at him before he looked at his parents again. “And this is Liam. They may have kidnapped me with intentions of ransoming me, but they were the only true friends I knew while I was captive and they made sure I was treated with respect and dignity. They realized their mistake and chose to do the right thing at great personal risk, and for that reason I request that you find mercy in yourselves to grant them each a full pardon for their piracy, kidnapping, and any other crimes they may have committed.”

 

“Or you will run away again?” Zayn’s mother asked, anger breaking through the expression of relief that she had been wearing only a moment before. Right. He had done that. “If we refuse to grant them a pardon, you will just run away with them.”

 

“You are not really giving us much of a choice,” his father agreed, and Zayn felt frantic fear claw at his lungs and steal his breath.

 

“I,” he started, before he realized that his parents were entirely right. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I want to go wherever they are going. Pardon or otherwise.”

 

“Exactly as I thought,” his mother tutted. “Your father and I need a moment to discuss this. We will retire to the hall for a moment and we will have an answer for you when you return.”

 

Remembering his manners, Zayn bowed as his parents each stood, and Liam followed his lead. He could hear the rustling of everyone else in the hall, including Louis, Harry, and Niall, doing so as well.

 

Zayn was too nervous to talk, even to provide support or comfort to his friends, but he knew Liam was there with him, holding his hand tight and standing tall next to him. That knowledge made the moments that his parents took to confer seem like less of an eternity. They returned to their thrones and Zayn could not determine from their expressions which options they had chosen. He would have to wait like everyone else, even though each breath felt like forever.

 

“We are very appreciative of these boys turning against their captain and returning you to us,” his father began. “So we are accepting your plea and granting them each full pardons.”

 

“Furthermore,” his mother added, interrupting the little celebration Zayn could hear going on behind him between Niall, Harry, and Louis. Liam just squeezed Zayn’s hand, a quick pulse, and smiled at him. Zayn stood up tall and proud, joy pinging around inside him like a lost bolt of lightning. He was sure that nothing his mother had to say could dampen his happiness. “We are happily offering each of you the ransom arranged for our son’s return in the hopes that you will use it to purchase property or a house near the castle to live in so that Zayn will not run off after you as soon as you leave this room.” His mother could not stifle her smile any longer, and Zayn smiled back at her before the three boys not holding his hand hit his back in an aggressive tackle-hug that nearly knocked him over.

 

They cheered and babbled out their joy and their thanks to Zayn’s parents, who graciously accepted it and expressed their thanks for Zayn’s return. The royal court applauded the decision, which was not customary, but Zayn thought it was very fitting.

 

“You may leave now, and please take the chest with you. We are eternally grateful for the service you have done to this kingdom and this family,” Zayn’s mother said, dismissing them, but before they even lifted up the chest, she revised her statement. “Except Zayn and Liam. The king and I need to speak to you privately.”

 

Zayn’s parents rose from their thrones and led the way out of the throne room through a back entrance to the left of their thrones. They were followed by two guards, and two more of them fell into step behind Zayn and Liam. They waved nervously back at the rest of the boys where they stood by the chest.

 

“Don’t worry about it!” Niall called across the length of the throne room. “You’re old enough to have your cherry popped. They can’t be that mad!”

 

Face and ears on fire, Zayn tugged Liam out of the room faster and only breathed again when they were in the hall, trudging along after his parents. They found an empty chamber across the hall from the throne room and ducked into it. They paused to dismiss two of the guards and asked the other two to stand sentinel outside the room, then once the door was closed and the two guards were stationed outside, Zayn’s parents turned on him.

 

He collapsed into his mother’s arms when she opened them to him, and he did not cry when she held him close, but it was a close thing. She cupped his face and held him at a distance so she could properly see his face.

 

“You are so skinny,” she tsked, voice thick like she was on the edge of tears as well. “Did they feed you on that ship? Did they lock you up? Torture you, or force you to work for them?”

 

Zayn shook his head, taking her hands off his face and holding them. He smiled shyly at Liam. “No, nothing like that. They treated me well, especially my friends. I actually did not know I was a prisoner until a little over a week ago… I thought they had just employed me to work on the ship as a member of the crew.”

 

She pursed her lips and eyed him disdainfully. “I see they do not give their crew members haircuts.”

 

Zayn ran one hand through his messy hair. Usually he had people to maintain it for him, but his time spent on the ship had allowed it to grow out. “In my defense, I usually tied it back on the ship.”

 

“Yes, well, your hair is not what we have asked you here to discuss,” Zayn’s father reminded him, paying at serious, but when he moved closer he also embraced Zayn tightly. “We are so glad you are back home safe,” he commented softly, squeezing him firmly before they separated and he stepped back. He gestured to the two ornate couches sitting deeper in the room and they proceeded over to them, taking seats. Zayn sat with Liam across from his parents.

 

“What we need to address is this,” his mother said, gesturing between the two of them. Zayn flushed and fidgeted but Liam took one of his hands and held it, effectively settling him. “You know there are traditions regarding courting that we observe in this kingdom, Zayn.”

 

“We could not exactly follow the rules when we met the way we did,” Zayn protested. “We just came together. It just… happened.”

 

“But you are no longer living like vagrants on a pirate ship,” his mother argued. “You need to set this right.”

 

“And I will,” Zayn insisted. Liam let go of his hand and leaned forward.

 

“What do we need to do?” Liam asked, and Zayn frowned at him.

 

“You do not have to do anything right now,” Zayn assured him. “You did not know.”

 

“But I do now,” Liam told him. “I want to court you properly. I want to do whatever it is I have to do to be in a proper relationship with you.” Liam smiled at him, those same warm, kind eyes that Zayn first fell in love with looking down at him.

 

“Well,” Zayn began. “The first thing we would do is go before both sets of parents and tell them of our intentions to court one another. They do not have to give permission or approval of the match, but they just have to be officially informed.”

 

Liam turned to Zayn’s parents then, adorable spots of colour blooming high on his cheeks. “Your highness and...your highness? Erm. Your highnesses?” He turned towards Zayn, a little frantic, but it was Zayn’s father who smiled and gestured for Liam to go on. “Uhm. My name is Liam Payne and it is my intention to court your son, Zayn Malik. I care about him a lot, and I want to be with him as long as he’ll have me.” Liam faltered near the end, stuttering a little and avoiding eye contact with Zayn but Zayn was helplessly endeared by the display. “My - uhm - my parents are not here to be informed of Zayn’s intent. Is that still okay?”

 

Zayn took the lead then. “Mother. Father. It is my intention to court Liam Payne, and to keep him by my side for as long as the gods will.”

 

“Forgot to mention the gods,” Liam mumbled, and Zayn just laughed and held his hand tight in both of his.

 

“Normally, there would be a chaste kiss at this point,” Zayn’s mother said. “But I think there has been quite enough of that in public for today.”

 

Zayn and Liam both reddened, but could not keep their giddy smiles down. Zayn’s parents stood from where their seats. Zayn’s mothers drew her shawl tighter around herself and took his father’s hand. Liam looked confused, his hand still twitchy where Zayn held it.

 

“What happens now?” he asked.

 

“Now, you’ll give find your friends and bring them back here so that the maids can help you all get washed up and fitted with proper clothing.” Zayn’s mother glared at his hair again, and if stares could kill, his hair would be shorn already with sheer contempt.

 

“And then what?” Liam asked, brows still furrowed.

 

“And then,” she said, smiling at him and moving in close to kiss his cheek. She had to stand on the tips of her toes. Liam’s cheeks had been steadily reddening since they had left the throne room, but they were positively ruddy after that gesture. “we feast to celebrate the prince’s safe return and the start of his courtship with what appears to be a very good man.”

 

She and Zayn’s father swept out the door of the chamber then, and almost before the door was closed, Zayn had stepped up to Liam and pulled him down for the first of many kisses to come as a properly courting couple.


End file.
